Halo: The Old World
by thecooldude123
Summary: A planet known for its history with the Covenant/Human War, also has a history with the ancient race of aliens known as the Forerunners, and spanning twenty years 100,000 years later, Orion-548's secrets are uncovered.


**Prologue**

 _0200 HOURS, DECEMBER 25, 2536 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / LIMPITA SYSTEM, ORION-548_

"Contacts neutralized." Will whispered over TEAMCOM half a heartbeat after the twin suppressed M6 pistol fire. He reloaded methodically, dropping the old magazine and injecting a fresh one.

"Copy, yellow-02." Yellow-01, yellow team's leader, Dance, whispered. "Team, move out."

Three streaks of olive green, the rest of yellow team in their MK. V MJOLNIR power armor, flashed across Will's field of vision, racing towards the 5 kilometer tall structure.

Will stepped over the lifeless corpses of the jackal patrol pair, their mouths hanging open, one eye rolled up into their heads, the other replaced with a bloody socket.

Will jogged up to the edge of the small cliff which overlooked the entire northwest part of the Covenant vehicle depot on Orion-548.

The Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) found out about this place a while ago, but so many Spartans were being deployed on more important missions, ONI never gave this place a second look, until twice the usual number of Covenant warships loaded up here last week. Because of that, ONI sent yellow team down from the UNSC prowler Tidal Wave to plant a FENUS nuclear warhead and remote detonate it, destroying the facility and, hopefully, when their shields were down while loading cargo, the Covenant warships in orbit.

Will laid flat on the rocks, unslung his sniper rifle, made sure his oracle scope was working, and then linked it to his helmet's heads-up-display (HUD).

His helmet's view screen zoomed in by a factor of ten. He activated the scope's nightvision. Looming like an oversized football stadium, the factory would've caused a shadow that stretched to Will, one kilometer away, at midday. Dome like, steam pipes and flashing lights smogged and illuminated the depo. Dozens of openings, some the size of the all terrain Warthog, some the size of destroyers, spanned all over the building.

Every minute, it seemed, a weapon of destruction came out of an opening. Ghosts, a tiny single maned hovercraft mounted with two plasma blasters, were as numerous as the red pebbles that dotted the clearing. Wraiths, the Covenant tanks, were equipped with massive plasma mortars that could melt Scorpion tank armor almost like paper. Single man piloted aircraft swooped through the sky, supporting two plasma torpedoes and two stubby wings.

Thousands, it seemed, of ground troops dotted the ground, and flashes of chrome weapons could be seen. Enemies were highlighted everywhere. Grunts dotted the ground, growling and barking at each other in a dog like manner. This was an issue. Grunts were helpless by themselves, but their power came from their numbers. Will had seen field videos of the little guys, hundreds at a time, charging at marines. Depleted of ammunition from the number of grunts, they had to fight them by hand, but were trampled before they even killed one.

Hundreds of the vulture like jackals screeched and squawked at each other, some of them arguing over hunks of meat. Glints of the shield generators that were strapped to creatures' wrists flashed. The shields were very useful and provided much protection and could take lots of punishment before failing, though the device could recharge on its own like the warships of the Covenant. ONI had ordered all of the Spartans to collect all available Covenant technology. Advances had already been made to current artificial gravity tech.

Massive stationary turrets lined the entire clearing, overlapping Their fields of fire. The turrets' combined fire could atomize Tidal Wave in less than seconds.

All of this was bad.

The least defended areas, however, were a small hole to allow ghosts to travel through after production and the "back door." The back door was plan B and most likely the safest. Scanned by a probe, the small door seemed to vertically undefended. Plan A was faster, though.

The ground shook, causing Will to loss aim and thought. Will shifted his position to see two hours to his left. The thing was so massive, he didn't need his sniper scope to see the "tank." A Scarab walking platform was nearly half a kilometer long, 200 meters tall, not including it's massive Anti-Air Gun perched on top of its midsection. Its "head" was a plasma cannon, heating at 1000 degrees celsius, which can melt a Scorpion tank's half meter thick armor like paper, and it would easier with the Spartan's.

"I have a contact," whispered Will over TEAMCOM. "Scarab on your five. Advising you make your way on your seven, over."

There was a full heartbeat of white noise befor Dance replied, "Advised, yellow-02. Moving to our five. We can use the back door entrance and proceed to plan b. We'll be at the new objective in five. Go radio silent for now."

Will switched off his COM and hunkered down behind a pile of Orion-548, being careful to mark the jackal snipers so he could see where they were looking. With nothing else to do, he updated his mission log, making it clear that they had to move off course because of the Scarab walker. He moved some gravel around his sniper rifle so it was still pointed at the walker, but didn't tip over, and moved the oracle camera to the corner of his HUD, and started a checkup of all his gear.

Strapped to his midsection was a titanium alloyed, fine tipped, razor edged combat knife stuck in a tight sheath, tight enough so it won't fall out but can be easily pulled out by a Spartan, with their ¨mutations¨ of extra muscle density, and a hole slue of others.

Will pulled his sidearm out of its holster, an M6 magnum. The M6 is one of the most reliable firearms in the UNSC arsenal, able to punch straight through concrete with just three rounds. He released the mag, inspecting its twelve rounds. In his ammo pouch, five additional clips were stored. Once satisfied, he slipped in the mag back in the M6.

Slung over his right shoulder was a MA5B Assault Rifle. Built into it was a flashlight that could reach up to 200 meters, but could be reduced to ten meters. On top was an ammo indicator which read the exact number of rounds in the mag. It shot at an impressive fifteen rounds per second. They were not the best, but were a standard for all UNSC personnel.

"Sir!" cried yellow-04. "Motion trackers pinging! Contacts everywhere!"

Will rotated his body to face the rest of Yellow Team. Quickly, he switched a small lever on the side of the Oracle Scope, making three heat signatures appear on his HUD in a cluster of trees. Only three. Kate was getting jumpy, which was bad.

"I got eyes on you, yellow-04." Whispered Will. "No hostiles on the thermals."

"I have something too." Whispered yellow-03, Jack. "I count a dozen contacts on mine too."

This was bad, two Spartans having the same, what should be, technical issues. They had performed flawlessly, landing in a dropship three kilometers from the vehicle depot, found the COM Jammer that was blocking their communication to the Tidal Wave and destroyed it, located the north bunker which acted as the center for the Covenant's COM signals, and was easily taken care of by tossing two grenades through the entrance, killing most of the aliens and destroying their emergency communication, and making a clean sweep of the small building with short coughs of suppressed assault rifles. Afterwards, they silenced five jackal patrol pairs and made their way to where they were now.

What did they do wrong?

"Movement." Whispered Dance. He moved his left hand up and made a fist. The silent signal for "wait", and crouched, MK5B raised at chest level, and quickly but silently, made his way to a thick tree and took cover behind it. He waved at the other Spartans and pointed to a cluster of trees. They followed his command and ducked behind the trees, and Will could see them take the safeties off their weapons.

Will could still see nothing of Covenant pressens. He switched from thermal to night vision, and could still see nothing through the green tinted forest. He then detached his oracle scope from his HUD and increased the range on his motion trackers from ten meters to one hundred meters.

They were everywhere. Red dots highlighted his entire circle on the bottom left of his HUD. Will spun around fast enough to give a normal human whiplash, and pulled out his sidearm but came face to face with… nothing. He checked his motion tracker again. they were still there. "Machines break, but eyes don't." said his old instructor, Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez. So if his motion tracker was broken, he'd have to rely on his senses.

"Sir, permission to leave position." Will whispered over TEAMCOM, his eyes darting from tree to tree, never lowering his pistol.

Static. This was not right.

Again the motion tracker pinged, more louder than usual. He didn't look at it, not expecting anything different. He didn't dare look away from the woods

"Sir, if you're hearing this, I can't read you. There could still be another COM Jamer."

More static.

"I'm moving out." Whispered Will through the dead COM. Reluctantly violating his safety, he turned and wiped off the gravel that was caked on his sniper rifle. Another ping from his broken motion tracker. He slung his sniper over his right shoulder. Again another ping. He unlinked his HUD from the oracle scope, so he wouldn't be continually gazing at the sky. A very loud ping jard him to finally glance at his trackers. All but one dot was gone. It was directly behind Will.

He whirled around and pulled his M6 pistol out of its holster in half a second. He squeezed the trigger at apparent nothingness, and a wall of blue lightning ignited in front of him, ripples branched out from where the bullet hit. Energy shields.

A claw like hand coated in the energy snapped at Will. With only half a second to react, Will swung his right arm at the claw and connected his forearm with the wrist. The figure recoiled to its right, giving Will the opportunity to swing his hip to face the creature, and snapped his foot at it and connected his foot with the figure's midriff. He felt bones brake.

As the thing fell, the energy sparked, disabling the active camouflage, and the alien became visible. The Elite(3) was vaguely human like, with arms, legs, and a head, but with claw like fingers. The feet were flat, with only two thick toes. The head homed two betty eyes, black and hateful. The strangest thing was their mouth, with four mandibles, or four jaws. The armor recommended that the Elite was a major, one of the highest field ranks in the Covenant.

How did it know he was there? Was it involved with the COMs acting up? He checked his COM frequency to see if it was a COM jammer. They were working perfectly.

Will keyed to FLEETCOM in an attempt to contact the Tidal wave, even though it was on the other side of the planet. Will waited for fifteen seconds of white noise before turning off the COM. He shouldn't be surprised, for the prowler was properly in "stealth mode," moving whisper silent and dead slow. They might have turned on the reflective plating, making the ship virtually invisible and undetectable on radars. But that also meant that COM channels could not reach the prowler from outside the ship.

He had no help, at least for now, no way of contacting the Tidal Wave or the rest of Yellow Team, he had to destroy the depot, maybe by himself. He didn't want to, but he had to consider the possibility that Yellow Team may be here forever, dead.

Will moved that subject from his head. He had to think about what was a hundred percent confirmed. Dance was t

* * *

he last to have the FENUS warhead. Will tried to access the Friend or Foe (IFF) tags of his teammates through his touchpad on his gauntlet. Even if they were dead, they're MJOLNIR armor had a tracking device hidden on it, which was used to track the Spartans and recover their bodies.

A pinging noise played over his helmet's speakers, indicating that he found a tag. He marked it on his TACMAP, and set a waypoint to it. He then recorded this in his mission log, that his team went COM silent and that he was going out to look for them.

When finished recording, he looked up, over the cliff to where they, yellow team, his family, disappeared. Glancing at the Scarab walking-platform, he took a deep breath, fogging up his visor. This was the first time he'd been on a mission without contact to the rest of yellow team. He'd been trained to work alone, but the use for that training never came, as he has always been with his team, his friends, his family, the only family he ever remembered having. Dance, Katie, Jack, and Will. Nobody was going to break this family, not even the Covenant.

And with that thought still hanging in his head, Will whispered to himself the ancient mato, "Spartans never die." And as he was jogging down the hill to his newly marked objective, he wondered if that legend about the Spartans was true.

On the bridge of the UNSC Tidal Wave, two things came to Captain Bruce's mind. First, the Spartan team, Yellow Team, has gone COM silent. Not even a ping on lieutenant Kate's computer. Though, when briefed on how a prowler works, as this was the first time commanding one, the briefer said that COM channels had a difficult time breaking through when the ship entered "ghost mode." The name he made up because that's what the ship essentially does when in stealth mode.

The other part of his thoughts were on the half a dozen Covenant warships in orbit over the planet. With minimal weapons on the ship, save those in the armory, the Tidal Wave was not to be used in a fight. Even when they first entered stealth mode, he was afraid the aliens would see them, at least on their radar.

Maybe that's what every prowler captain feared.

The unknowing Covenant ships were clustered together in twos or threes, but even without their gathering, the ships were massive, the largest over five kilometers long. With a swipe on his console, view screen zoomed in and magnified on a bright blue beam exiting from the largest ship. If inspected closer, he would see dropships sending cargo to and from the orbited ship.

Yet still no explosion. The Spartans were to send a signal to the Tidal Wave the nuke was in place and primed, and even though weak, Holly would see the ping of the weak signal. When stealth mode was disabled, they would send a pelican dropship to pick up the Spartans and bring them back to the Tidal Wave. After that, Roy would bring the ship into slipspace, and the Covenant would see the best fireworks show. Mission completed.

Of course it wouldn't be so easy. Nothing in this war was ever easy.

"Lieutenant, status report." Bruce said to Holly.

"Life support optics showing at 97.6 percent sir." said Holly. "Oxygen levels normal. Reactor running at one third power. Radars picking more Covenant ships on the darkside of the planet." She pursed her lips. "Radar detected three cruisers. Showing no signs of energy shields being up. They're probably loading up cargo." Holly typed at machine gun like speed, updating her journal.

Bruce had very mixed feelings about the Tidal Wave's newest lieutenant on the bridge. Holly manly updated him about the ship's conditions, reactor status, COM signals, and radar pings. But, if needed, she could work every station on the bridge at near perfection. Her short blond hair, though, didn't match her dark brown eyes. The combination intimated him, because the only other time he saw that combo was on the most feared person in the UNSC: The head of ONI, Margaret Orlenda Parangosky.

"Sir, slip-stream rupture detected!" Shouted Roy, the Navigation officer. Lieutenant Becky, who sat at the weapons station, jumped.

"How many?" Bruce asked. The only question worth asking is always "how many", because it could be two to a couple dozen warships.

Roy consulted his computer. "Half a dozen."

Bruce swore under his breath. Even when at low numbers, the Covenant almost always won the war in space. With advanced technology hundreds of years ahead of humans', with plasma torpedoes able to redirect itself even after the shots been fired; with powerful laser blasts that had the potential to glass entier planets. The odds were not high for the Tidal Wave.

While the crew stared, awestruck and terrified, at the six exit portals from Slipspace, Bruce reviewed his options, which weren't numerous.

If they jumped into slipspace, they couldn't do so without binging attention to themselves, and could be badly damaged by the Covenant before jumping, and while damaged, the ship would be torn and disintegrated to atoms in the seven dimensions. Even if they did slip, they would forget the four Spartans on the rocky surface. If they sent a pelican dropship, the Covenant would see it on their radar and destroy it and, no doubt, start a search for the mothership.

Bruce was in a classic "tough situation."

On the surface of the holy planet, Sut 'Ladum clicked his mandibles together in disgust, kicking the inferior Unggoy out of the way. The field marshal had to prove himself to the great prophets, and he couldn't have the weak getting in his way. The gates were about to open, revealing the secrets the past gods have left for them.

The high pitched squeal informed Sut 'Ladum he had broke the tiny knee of the unggoy. Scampering and barking in pain, the inferior moved to Sut 'Ladum's left. At the base of the shining gate, he looked up at the ancient symbols the gods left for them. The shining symbols glowed and pulsed, waiting to be touched by a holy priest.

"Is everything ready?" Snapped Sut to his lieutenant. The Sangheili quivered quietly, frightened. At this moment, now looking around, all the warriors looked at Sut 'Ladum with a little fear, which was understandable, but unacceptable. All had to be perfect, and he was making sure of that. He must make the others remember their duty.

This construct was built by the Forerunners, an ancient race who held almost godly powers. Technology and weapons far superior to those of the Covenant. The Prophets believed there would be powerful artifacts left behind by the Forerunners in this structure. To hide it from the humans, they built a two meter thick casing around the building. Not even human missiles can penetrate the armor. The humans meddled too much and too long with the Great Journey, so drastic measures must be taken.

The clanking of armor made Sut 'Ladum lose focus of the lieutenant and his thoughts to stare at the opening that led to the inside of the Covenant structure. The San 'Shyuum priest, Zurt Hanca, was striding to Sut, his confidence spreading to the other sangheili, who were now all on one knee, singing and praying aloud.

The priest turned to Sut. He knelt and bowed his head. "My lord," said Sut, "all of my forces are ready. We're only waiting for you."

"Very good." Zurt Hanca replied. He turned around. "Bring it to me."

The massive blast door hissed open. Some of the closer Sangheili shouted and some raised their weapons, and Sut soon found out why. Being dragged between two honor guards, green armor plates melted, scorched, and bloodied, was a demon.

Predicted to be the human's "super soldiers," they named them the after Sangheili word for demon: Spartan. The entire Covenant hated them, feared them, but, as warriors, respected them.

Green armor covered it, made of the metal the humans call titanium, of which their ships were armored. Behind the plating, black armored layering covered its naked body. Its wrist displayed flashing colors and sometimes showed a digital map. The helmet was made of the same alloy and color as the rest of the suit, save the yellow faceplate, which, though slightly cracked, still shimmered and sparkled.

So this place wasn't as protected or secret as Sut suspected. Designed by the best engineers and latest Covenant technology, guarded by a fleet of warships, and even a vehicle depo stationed behind the temple, which already produced hundreds of ghosts, wraiths, banshees, and six scarab walking platforms. One would think this was the most secure place the covenant ever made, aside from High Charity.

Though, these were demons they're talking about. Dozens of bases and ships destroyed and silenced, they were not to be underestimated. But victory at last! They've finally captured one to use on the holy construct. Some have been killed, of course, and they will celebrate those deaths, of course, but more Sangheili have been killed than demons, much more.

Zurt strode toward the demon, his usually calm expression was filled with smug victory. A meter away from the human, he stopped. Glaring down at the weak, pathetic thing, Zurt waved his hand at the guard at the human's right. The guard bowed his head and raised it to see his hands around the helmet, pulling it off. With a slight tug, the helm loosened and small puffs of air blew for half a second, and the helmet gave way. With a final pull, the helm lost grip of the human and was completely off.

The demon was not at all what Sut was imagining it would look like. Bloody gashes, scars and scratches, old and new, shaped its face to almost a dead look. Blood trailed from his lips, also scarred. The hair on its head was at most a centimeter in length. It even had a stubble on the chin.

The demon opened his eyes and raised his head to glare at Zurt with a misty gray eye. The other was swollen shut.

"Sorry," It muttered. "wrong house."

Zurt Hanca didn't answer, but instead lowered his face so it was closer to the human's.

After a while, Zurt Hanca said loudly, "What is your name, human."

"Where's the others."

The Sangili originated to the room suddenly started muttering amongst themselves. More of them? Sut 'Ladum thought.

"The rest," Zurt said, silencing the soldiers, "are dead. Three snipers fired at you. Your two comrades fell while you lived. And now we have brought you here."

After a moment of shock, the demon's face showed confusion, shock once again, relief, and finally burning hatred as he stared at Zurt. All of this happened in less than a second.

"Tell you what," The human muttered acidly. "I've got a free ticket to the downstairs, if you know what I'm sayin', and you can take it, you son of a-"

The human's insult was stopped short by a kick to his ribs. Sut felt bones and ribs brake and cave in. The demon coughed and hacked up blood, staining the dirt and the stones.

"Stand down, General."

Sut froze, the hilt of his energy sword in hand, raised, and ready to activate.

General?

"I said stand down, Sut, General." Said Zurt Hanca in a calm voice.

The Sangili returned the handle to his belt. Slowly turned to Zurt Hanca and fell to one knee.

"My lord, what… what did I-"

"You secured this holy relic." Zurt Hanca answered. "Anyone would deserve such an honor for doing the same." and Zurt smiled at Sut, with pride and hunger in his eyes, but also something else…pity?

"Now," he turned to the demon. "bring him to the console."

The two honor guards leaned down and locked its shoulders in a vice grip and dragged it to a large sphere embedded in the wall, covered with ancient hieroglyphs of the Forerunners. Shimmering with a blueish tinge, the writings the Covenant could not fully understand on the orb only responded to a human's touch.

The guard on the right reached down and striped the human of his bulky armor. Once it was ridden of the armor, its jet black under suit remained. The left guard pulled out the knife buried in the pile of equipment brought by the demon. Not carefully at all, the sangili began to cut off the hand protection attach to the suit. Blood leaked from the cut made by the knife, but the human didn't flinch. Perhaps it was unconscious.

When successful, the guard lifted up its right hand and brought it closer to the orb, which spun fast as though it was exited.

Suddenly a voice whispered, "You know, I barely remember my old family and life."

With Zurt's hand up, the guard stopped moving the human hand. He moved slowly toward the demon, no longer taking his usual long strides. Once in front of the human, he knelt before it, and whispered something Sut could barely make out.

"For many years we have fought each other, and for years we," he waved at the small army around him, "have destroyed dozens of your planets. Billions of humans have been killed, and so I assume your family must have died at sometime."

"No," the demon muttered more quietly than Zurt so that Sut had to move closer to hear, "no, that's not true. They lived on the human home planet. I remember that I had a brother, a sister, Mom, and Dad. We had a dog, big lab or australian. I even had a crush at school at preschool and kindergarten. Old elementary, 50 years old at the time.

"But the one thing I remember the best is my grandfather. Dead by now, probably, but he used to be in the marines. He had trophies and old weapons in his basement, loved to read the draft for his book he was writing. Every time we went to his house, I'd spend all my time reading his books and looking at his stuff. I remember that we were going again the next day. Then… then they took me in the middle of the night." He shook his head, and amazingly smiled to himself.

"Life changed. Warfare changed. Humans changed. I changed. But the one thing that did not… change is-"

With surprising speed considering his old age, Zurt's hand struck at a nearby Sangili. Sut thought the old San 'Shyuum was attacking the young soldier, but instead he grabbed the holstered plasma pistol at the side. A second later, a new smoking hole was melted into the the green plating on the human's chest. The metal sizzled and popped, reacting to the 1000 degree bolt of energy. The human choughed red blood, crimson now splattered on the floor, for ever stained there.

Zurt didn't even waste a breath, but instead grasped the human's hand and pressed it to the orb.

Each symbol touched brightened and glowed, illuminating the demon's scarred and bloodied face and the face of Zurt, deadly calm and deadly serious.

Metal grinded. All heads turned to the now sliding doors, so large that a dropship could fly through. The hieroglyphs glowed after a few seconds and the doors froze half way so suddenly that they reminded Sut of a native species of bird on Sanghelios; movements so sudden that you could never predict when it moved or when it stopped.

As soon as the doors stopped, a blinding beam of light flashed across the massive gap that separated their side to the other. After Sut's beedy eyes adjusted, the blinding light shaped into a flat bridge that connected to the other side. No visual mechanism seemed to keep the bridge stable, but it was the only thing to cross in order to reach the other side.

As one, all of the Sangheili, Unggoy, and Kin-yar fell to one knee, silently praying. Sut had never seen anything more beautiful in his life, with more radiance than his loving wife. The light will show them the way to honor complete their Great Journey.

After five minutes or so, Zurt stood and made his way to the bridge made of light. The demon breathed heavily, clutching the smoking hole burned into the armor, face bathed in blood and sweat. But even it could not help but stare at the beautiful scene in front of him.

¨Now,¨ commanded Zurt ¨we will reclame the artifacts left by the Forruners!¨

The light seemed to be glowing brighter still. Almost blinding.

¨The technology to be found here is still a mystery to all of us, but it will not be so for much longer.¨

Now the light was blinding. Sut turned his head to his army to divert his eyes. All had looked away from the light. One Unggoy was silently crying and clawing at its eyes.

¨And so the great jornery begins!¨

Sut felt something. Something never felt. But he somehow knew all of the other warriors felt it.

Zurt turned.

¨No!¨

The light intensified. Sut rose from his knees and was about to run to the prophet, but the light reached its climax, so bright that it there couldn't possibly be anything brighter. The light flashed and a boom shocked Sut, believing the rumors of earthquakes on the planet.

The rush of light obscured Zurt from view, and a scream like no other echoed off the walls, the only ghost of the old prophet.

When the light dimmed to normal, the old one was gone, atomized to nothingness.

All stod shocked, staring at the now emty space where Zurt Hanca, the ancient prophet, once stod.

Sut shook off his dissertation first. He stumbled to the open doors and looked at the source of the end of Zurt.

What he saw was unfathomable. A center sphere floated between three booms, and all was connected by nothing. The sphere had a blazing neon blue "eye" that seemed to burn the air around it.

The eye turned to face it's new enemy and it brightened.

Sut rolled to the side, hoping to avoid the blast when it fired. His hand reached for the plasma rifle slung on his back, but hundreds of answering fire screamed throughout the entrance. Sut turned to his army, and saw every single warrior firing at the eye. Thousands of lights flashed and beams of light connected from the weapons to the eye.

Heat made Sut almost faint, but was far from it. He unslung his rifle and aimed at the eye. A flickering blue light enveloped the eye, and bolts of plasma rickashaded off of it, and the eye let loose another beam of light.

The beam shot straight towards a large group of Shanghai, and all of them scattered as fast as they could, but Sut saw dozens of brothers become victims. Blue blood splattered on the the stones and the walls of the cave. Several straight up disintegrated on the spot.

Sut wished more than anything that could look away from the carnage, but his eyes rebelled. He continued to look at the massacre. Unggoy were running about screaming. Half were were running away, causing a titlewave of scaled flesh, trampling some of the Kin-yar and Sangili. Half the rest were fighting the eye.

Two balconies were made inside the cave, one 50 meters high up, and another about 80 high. The sentries were armed with sniper rifles and each balcony carried a fuel rod cannon. For some reason, none of the sentries use the cannon, but instead they fired sniper bolts.

The army pelted the shield with plasma fire, but all being done didn't help. Hundreds of soldiers flying into the air, laser blasts detonating, lances of shimmering fire slicing through the air. Fallen warriors were screaming, clawing at stumps for legs. soldiers throwing depleted guns instead at the machine. The massacre was worse than anything he could see. They were underpowered, And this would be his end.

Over the explosions and screams of the fallen, he couldn't hear the radio buzzing in his ear. Not until a plasma grenade detonated to his right. The stray was thrown from a soldier who was aming at the


End file.
